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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140679">So, what happens next? (The breakfast club)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_BangTan/pseuds/Crystal_BangTan'>Crystal_BangTan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Breakfast Club (1985)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>80s, Alternate Universe - The Breakfast Club Fusion, F/M, Gen, Inspired by The Breakfast Club (1985), Original Character(s), Reader-Insert, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:49:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_BangTan/pseuds/Crystal_BangTan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Llamb is just a simple photography student, trying to humbly navigate through her final year of high school. But it's not as simple as it sounds.<br/>When put in her first Saturday detention, she is forced to spend 8 hours with a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal.<br/>Once they're secret-bound, and their wolds begin to collide, one can only think; what happens next?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andrew Clark/Allison Reynolds, Brian Johnson/Original Female Character(s), John Bender/Claire Standish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. My guide to a living hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In this chapter we get to see just what Mary’s life is all about, and how it leads her to detention.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do I look good?"<br/>
Joann, like always, was totally bugging, fretting over my camera, barely keeping from blurring the photo.<br/>
In a huff, I yank it away and groan. If I didn't get this shoot done by the end of the week, I'd be toast. And I really didn't want to be. "Jo, if you don't let me do this my way, I'll get Fred to replace you, seriously."</p><p>"Frederica Martin, at your service," the brunette humoured, making the blonde scowl. </p><p>"No, Fred! I've only stuck with photography to be in the pictures!"</p><p>Joann Martin, the photography departments link to the preps. If it weren't enough that she was stunning – – long, blonde, highlighted hair, honey brown eyes and a fashion sense to die for – – she was also extremely popular. It's not that she was really well-liked, everyone could see, but she was completely blind to it.<br/>
I couldn't even say why it is that I put up with her so often. Maybe it was because, in spite of treating Fred, (a fearless warrior in the face of mortality), like the absolute underdog she could be -not by any fault of her own - she listened to me when I needed her to.</p><p>Fred turns away with an amused grin, leaning against the brick wall again. She was always the funniest in our little crew. Quick to befriend everyone in the photography department, bagging us the experience of not being total losers, all through her exuberant, laid-back personality. It was a misconception no one could really see. She wasn't up with the trends, though she did have her own open, over-sized shirt and baggy jeans, skater look going on, she didn't run with the crowds, but could she make friends? Like the click of your fingers!</p><p>I always envied her. I, on the other hand, spend most of my time finding ways to do nothing. It sounds funny but God, it could really be an issue. You'd think I have no aspirations, but that's not true at all. Sometimes, teenagers lay on the couch, watch reruns of their favourite show as they snack while getting moaned and groaned at by their overbearing mothers wearing spandex in the living room. It's that I keep on doing it out of spite.<br/>
Still, of course I had dreams. Maybe I just didn't like to be hopeful about them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Tell me, Jeanie, do you have any final thoughts?"</p><p>English was the final class of the day, and I really planned to just relax, listen to the readings and wait it out. But for some reason, the clock seemed to be clicking slower.<br/>
I assumed it was because of Bender, throwing balled up paper at everyone as soon as Ms. Chase turned her back.<br/>
What an exhausting scoundrel, he is. He never really belonged anywhere, though that's never stopped anyone from using his name in the hallways. I don't think I'd ever given him the time of day, and I didn't plan to any time soon either. </p><p>"I don't think the relationship between the two men in this story was romantic. An understandable assumption, especially with the kiss, but I feel that it was an oath more than anything. There's plenty of evidence that could support the theory that Damian isn't actually real at all, just a subconscious state of Sinclaires mind to help him through the identity issues he's facing."</p><p>God, do I remember my crush on Jeanie Bueller. Never dared tell her considering our friendship was simply a mutual one, through her friendship with girls like Ashlee, Shanna, Claire and Dana.<br/>
These girls, I could paint their banners for homecoming, take their yearbook photos, and decorate the auditorium for their committees, buts that's really all.<br/>
Not really anything to complain about, but it's pretty obvious why I had to force myself to get over it. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes I wondered if life beyond high school would be any different. What if I would always be the middle man? It was a daunting thought, one that occurred in my busy mind all to often for my taste.<br/>
For example, my mother degrading me for my life choices and scolding me for not using my spare time to tone my legs excluded, maybe my life won't change as a grown up. I'll always be the same. At least until I break into my career in medicine.</p><p>"That's not going to happen. You need to be productive to be a surgeon. Go out for a run or something, it might help."<br/>
Might help slim me down too, right?<br/>
I pulled a tight smile, and stood up from my place on the couch with an enthusiastic nod. The joyous look on my mother's face was almost priceless. </p><p>"Yeah, maybe I will go for a run. To the store for some snacks to eat while I study for my medical degree."<br/>
What parent would complain about that? Mine, apparently. She just got more and more intense and insensitive for the last thirteen years, and there wasn't an end in sight. Not so far, anyway.<br/>
Perhaps one day she'll get over her grief and be whoever she was before. I don't exactly remember what she was like, but I know I was much happier at four years old, so I bet she was a whole lot better than she is now. Sure, it's understandable to compensate with activity to make up to your sadness, but to drag me into it? What a looney!</p><p>If I had truer friends, would I admit to letting her words get to me? Possibly.<br/>
But, truthfully, I didn't have that, and I had to suffer in silence at the thought of my hands not wrapping around my thighs. Though I absolutely refused to do anything about it out of pure spite.<br/>
It's enough that I'm made to ride my bike to school and back every day, and that should be enough to keep her off my back, and to keep the spandex out of my wardrobe. If she was going to splash out to buy me things, she could at least invest in my interests.<br/>
"I know it's not much, but I found these cute paint brushes you might like!"<br/>
Maybe they were made out of plastic. Maybe they were straight from the 99 cents store. But I would have been entirely grateful. Too much to ask for, I realised when I was eight. </p><p>I'd asked for mini dental kit to assist my toys with their cavities, thinking I was going to become a dentist, and she couldn't have been less interested.<br/>
But when my birthday came around I thought, maybe... just maybe...<br/>
Should have known even then that she wasn't paying any attention. I thanked my mum for the cool backpack filled with hair clips and nail polish, like the patient child I was. I even accompanied her to the "birthday hike" she insisted we go on.<br/>
Growing up though, I failed to realise that my parents didn't deserve me. Maybe my father had a reason for doing what he did.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I was nothing special when it came to PE, but the experience of growing up under the rain of an extreme gym rat had its perks.<br/>
Didn't seem to make my coordination any better though, evident by me whacking Larry Lester in the nose with the ball. He was also on my team, so it's a difficult incident to excuse.<br/>
"Come on, Lester,  can't even play right in the girls' class?" The coach guffawed, giggled erupting suit, echoing in the gym. Words could not explain how much I hated that guy. Ever since the first time he made an inappropriate comment until he slept with my mother. It was then he really made a pass. I was 15 years old.<br/>
"Shut up." I rolled my eyes and jogged towards the embarrassed boy, laying a hand on his shoulder. He looked at me through sad eyes. I can't recall ever seeing him relaxed in this school. "Sorry about that, Lester. Sometimes I don't know my own strength."</p><p>"Back in the game, Llamb!"</p><p>"Okay!"</p><p> </p><p>Again, I'd won a few games in a team, and one on one. No surprise there.<br/>
Inadequate is the word I'd use to describe me against the real athletes of our school. Made sense, right? We had a football team, and a wrestling team populated with the men of out school. They really dominated the sports. We did have a girls volleyball team that I was pushed to go for. It's rumoured that I purposely flunked my try-outs on purpose. Boy, if they only knew.</p><p>I consider myself lucky that that status never stuck, and that I'm just that girl everyone knows who takes pictures. It was better than being what she had wanted me to be.<br/>
"Llamb, can you stay behind?"</p><p>I stopped at the doorway and sighed, turning to the middle aged man who scanned his register casually. Keeping my distance, I folded my arms and shrugged. "What? What do you need?"</p><p>"What date is this?"</p><p>He had to have been joking. "You kept me behind to ask for the date? It's March, 23rd."<br/>
I turned again to leave, but he stopped me and motioned me over.<br/>
Annoyed, I walk quickly towards him, stopping in front of him.</p><p>"I just wanted to talk about your form, Mary. The extension here is all off," he said, motioning to my lower back, not touching me. He never used to know any better. </p><p>"You lost privileges to give me advice around my ass as a PE teacher when you decided to make a pass at me."</p><p>"Shh, shut up," he growled, face a mere inch from my own. "It was a mistake, Mary. It was really just a moment of weakness."</p><p>"A moment of weakness doesn't explain that you still make weird comments to this day, and it doesn't excuse you from being a predator."<br/>
The man gave a sick, twisted smile at the work, leaning in closer to me.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he nearly whispered. "I just couldn't resist. Malory telling you to lose that weight on the time, and you were just so-<br/>
He brought his hand down to cup my ass, and on instinct, I brought my hand up, and slapped him across the face in a flash.<br/>
I took my wrist in my hand, palm tingling.<br/>
It was so fast, I wasn't even sure what to do next when the clipboard flew out of his hand and he yelled in pain. I took a step back, and he whipped his head back around, eyes ablaze in an anger I'd never seen him wear.<br/>
"Detention, Llamb!"</p><p>I scoffed loudly, taking another step back. "You're joking! You just assaulted me, you dick! I'm going nowhere!"</p><p>"Yeah, well, who do you think he'll believe?"</p><p>I stared at him in silence. No way this could actually be happening, right? I mean, the guy was a grade A asshole, but that didn't necessarily mean he'd get away with something like this. </p><p>I turned away and ran to the changing room, pushing the incident out of my head as best as I could. How did everything go from a 0 to 100 that fast? I think I might have cried of it weren't for shock. No way was Vernon going to give me detention for getting harassed. Even he's not that vile.</p><p>"Hey, Mary, what did Satan's spawn want?"</p><p>"Oh, nothing."<br/>
Nothing. Well, what else was I supposed to say? The truth? Because everyone will definitely take that seriously. "Just my form."</p><p>"Ugh, he's such a sicko. He probably just wanted to watch you squat!" Joann expressed, gagging in mock.</p><p>"Ew, Mary, he really talked about your squatting form?" Dana asked from the other side of the changing room.<br/>
I didn't talk to her group of friends often, but we were on friendly terms for the most part. She turned to her friends laughing, uncomfortably. "Ugh, he's such a creepy."</p><p>If only they knew.<br/>
"Yeah, tell me about it," I humoured, clipping my overalls together. "Anyway, i'll see you guys later."</p><p>The one good thing about having PE last is that you could go straight home to shower. Why we don't have showers in the locker rooms already is a mystery to me. "Bye!"<br/>
"Bye~"<br/>
"Yeah, don't bump into the coach~"</p><p> </p><p>Shrugging off the shiver that crept down my spine, i got to the main hallway, trying to find a way to kill the ten minutes we had until dismissal, when I tuned into the ruckus from the boys' locker room.<br/>
I dashed in the direction of the laughter, and even stood by outside.<br/>
A boy walked out, and I recognised him from my biology class. I gripped him lightly by the arm, making him look at me.<br/>
"Hey, what's going on in there? I know how loud you guys usually are in there, but God."</p><p>The boy smiled widely, rumbling with laughter suddenly. "Y-you... you had to have been there. One of the guys on the football or wrestling team or something taped Larry Lesters ass... it was gold!"</p><p>"Jesus... Is he okay?"</p><p>"Yeah, it's just tape. He'll get over it."</p><p>"Yeah, but-</p><p>"Llamb! Shouldn't you be in class?" Vernons voice snapped, making me jump. I looked up at him, shaking my heads.<br/>
"No, sir, I just got let out of gym."</p><p>"Ahh, yes," he mocks, clicking his fingers. "The class where you assaulted the coach, if I recall correctly."<br/>
I froze up, opening my mouth. I think that more than anything, I was embarrassed. This situation was completely unjustified, maybe be sexist, but still, I found that I was overcome with humiliation.</p><p>"That's not what happened."</p><p>"Detention. Tomorrow. Seven until three, school library. No exception. No excuses."</p><p>"That's eight hours!" I argued.</p><p>"Should have thought of that before you lifted a hand to a teacher."</p><p>"Principle! Could you come here real quick?" Another gym teacher poked his head out from the boys room, waving him over, and he walked away without another word.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The beginning of a day for my therapist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mary realised she’s stuck in detention with John Bender who won’t stop wreaking havoc, Claire Standish, and three people who’s names she still doesn’t know! <br/>What a stressful first hour...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Schermer High. </p><p>Oh, how incredibly depressing it was to see you on a Saturday before I'd truly woken up. <br/>It felt almost sickening to be out this early. I wasn’t even in the mood to eat breakfast and, if you know me, you know just how off-putting that is. <br/>My stomach growled beneath the high-waisted pastel skirt that I'd had the best time having to pin to the seat as I peddled.  <br/> <br/>I sighed, pushing back the hairband, two select front pieces of my dirty blonde hair falling in front of my eyes as I clutched my practical shoulder back. Last thing I'd want would be to have a clumsy moment. If I'd broken my mini camera or any of my disposables right now, I would really just give up and go home. No way in hell would I sit through all those hours with nothing to do. <br/> <br/>The library was a familiar place to me. I was hardly ever out of it, planning, meeting with other groups and committees about demands for projects. But on a Saturday, totally empty besides two semi-familiar faces at the front two tables was off. I offered a polite smile before moving to the seat behind the red-headed girl to join the blonde boy sporting braces. <br/>Claire. She was one of Danas friends, always asking for photographs of her design pieces to be put up on the bulletins, posters and newsletters. Not that I minded. It’s what I was there for. <br/>The next boy walking in with a large paper lunch bag wore a sports jacket, so I could only guess he was on the football or wrestling team. I didn’t know him well enough to get a closer look at the patches on his sleeves to find out as he pointed to the seat by Claire who motioned him to go ahead. <br/> <br/>Now would have been a good time to start counting my minimal blessings since John Bender was next to walk in, sunglasses clad, pointlessly touching everything on the entry librarians' desk as he passes, probably pocketing some knick-knacks. I avoid looking at his menacing face as he stops in front of the blonde boy, gesturing for him to move, which he did reluctantly to other row of tables. <br/>Bender sat in the newly vacant chair, resting his feet on the one between us. <br/> <br/>Finally, a girl I can’t say I've ever seen before walks in with her head hung low, dark hair covering most of her face. She makes her way around the library and finally sits at the back corner, far from the majority of us. I turn to look at her as she turns her back on everyone, but decide there really wasn’t a point in staring. Unlike the other two at the front who exchanged a look, snickering. <br/> <br/>Principle Vernon enters the room, casting a glaring look over us as he holds a small stack of paper in his hand. “Well, well... here we are...” He addresses, calm voice filled with a venom that makes me wonder how he got this job in the first place. “I want to congratulate you for being on time.” <br/> <br/>Claire raises her hand, giving Vernon no time to time to give her permission to speak.  <br/>“Excuse me, sir? I think there’s been a mistake. I know it’s detention, but I don’t think I belong in here...” she said, feigning a gentle tone as to not offend the room of people she was implying weren’t in her league. For punishment. </p><p>Vernon, among everyone else, didn’t care, moving on. “It is now seven-o-six. You have exactly eight hours, and fifty-four minutes to think about why you’re here. To ponder the error of your ways.” <br/>Bender pays no attention, spitting into the air, and catching it in his mouth, widely repulsive, but a great photo opportunity if you look deep enough. <br/>“And you...” Vernon starts, moving to pull the chair from under Benders feet. “...will not sleep. Alright people, we’re gonna try something a little different. We are going to write an essay of, no less than, a thousand words describing to me who you think you are.” </p><p>“Is this a test?” Bender challenged, no one taking notice as we’re handed a pencil each, and a piece of paper.  </p><p>“And when I say essay, I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?” </p><p>The boy in question looks up with a half smirk and spits, “crystal.” </p><p>“Good. Maybe you’ll learn a little something about yourself. Maybe you’ll even decide whether or not you care to return.” </p><p>The braces boy raises his hand, then stands. “You know, I can answer that right now, sir... That’d be ‘No,’ no for me ‘cause- </p><p>“Sit down, Johnson.” </p><p>“Thank you, sir.” </p><p>He sits back down, and Vernon points to the door. “My office is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?” </p><p>“Yeah, I got a question,” Bender starts. I sigh, knowing that these eight hours are going to be complete torture with him by my side. “Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?” </p><p>“I’ll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday. Don’t mess with the bull, young man, you’ll get the horns.” <br/>As he gestures a pair of horns with his hand, he cast us a final look before turning slowly, and leaving. As soon as he was out the door, Bender spoke once more.<br/>“That man... is a brownie hound.” <br/> <br/>I roll my neck, sinking more comfortably into my seat, enjoying the two seconds of silence interrupted by an irritating clicking sound. I twist around, curiously, eyes landing on the awkward girl in the back who bit her nails. She notices that everyone has turned to watch her now, and continues to bite. <br/>“You keep eating your hand, you’re not gonna be hungry for lunch,” said Bender. She glares, spits one of her nails at him, earning only an amused glance. “I’ve seen you before, you know...” </p><p>I furrow my brows, and can’t help but wonder where. I mean, John Bender was infamous, hung around by himself in school, but everyone knew him. This girl, on the other hand, not familiar at all. <br/>I fight another sigh as this Johnson boy mutters to himself to keep amused, pen attached to his lip, pointing up towards his nose. “...I am a walrus.” </p><p>Bender watches on, confused. The boy notices, laughing nervously while he takes the pen from his mouth, embarrassed. The two begin to take their jackets off at the same time, only for Johnson to notice, stopping awkwardly to pull it back over his shoulders. He rubs his hands together, pretending to be cold as they kept eye contact. “It’s the shits, huh?”  </p><p>Bender glares as the awkward boy lets out an unbearably uncomfortable laugh. <br/>He turns away, crumpling his piece of paper, throwing it at Claire. It goes over her head, and she and the sporty guy acknowledge it with a glance at each other but ultimately ignore it. Bored, he begins singing an instrumental. “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah... nah, nah, nah...” </p><p>Claire shakes her head, muttering to herself. “I can’t believe this is happening to me...” <br/>Luckily for her, she doesn’t have to sit next to him. The singing stops abruptly, and he perks up making me jump as he turns to face me. </p><p>“Oh, shit! What are we supposed to do if we have to take a piss?” </p><p>“I- Are you looking for an answer more sophisticated than ‘go to the bathroom’?” I squeaked, surprised. </p><p>He shakes his head dramatically. “No, no, we’re not allowed to leave. Well, if you gotta go,” he starts, unzipping his fly under the table. “you gotta go.” </p><p>I blanch, turning away with a yelp. “Oh my God!” Claire complains. <br/> <br/>“You’re not urinating in here, man,” told the athletic boy, pointing a warning finger. <br/>“Don’t talk, don’t talk! It makes it crawl back up!” </p><p>“You whip it out and you’re dead before the first drop hits the floor.” <br/> <br/>Bender gasps mockingly, blinking through a curtain of fluffy hair.  <br/>“You’re pretty sexy when you get angry... grrr.” <br/>He turns his attention back to poor, old Johnson. “Hey, homeboy!” <br/>The boy points questioningly at his own chest with his pen, brow quirked. “...Why don’t you go close that door, and we’ll get the prom queen impregnated.” </p><p>Claire turns to glare at him, disturbed. “Jesus,” I breathe, turning my head from him. </p><p>“Hey!” The athlete yelled. </p><p>“What?”  </p><p>“If I lose my temper, you’re totalled, man.” </p><p>“Totally?” </p><p>“Totally.” </p><p>“Why don’t you just shut up?” started Claire. “Nobody here is interested.” </p><p>“Really!” The other agreed, turning to mutter to Claire. “Butt face.” <br/> <br/>“Well, hey, Sporto! What’d you do to end up in here? Forget to wash your jock?” <br/> <br/>“Uh, excuse me, fellas,” the blonde stammered, nervously. “I think we should just write our papers...” </p><p>“Look,” the athlete told Bender, ignoring the other boy. “Just because you live in here doesn’t give you the right to be a pain in the ass, so knock it off!”</p><p>“It’s a free country,” he argues. </p><p>“He’s just doing it to get a rise out of you! Just ignore him,” Claire suggested. </p><p>Bender smirks, leaning over the table to bring himself closer to her. “Sweets... you couldn’t ignore me if you tried.” She rolls her eyes, continuing to ignore him, proving him wrong. “So... so... are you guys, like, boyfriend, girlfriend? Steady dates? Lovers~? ...Come on, Sporto, level with me. Do you slip her the hot... beef injection...?” </p><p>“GO TO HELL!” <br/>    “ENOUGH!” <br/> <br/> <br/>“Hey!” Comes Vernons voice. “What’s going on in there!?” <br/>Ignoring him, I turn to Bender who walks toward the railing by our seats, hoisting himself onto it. “What the hell is wrong with you anyway?” I hiss. </p><p>He looks at me, almost surprised. “A little bit of curiosity has never hurt anybody.” </p><p>“Except it killed the cat, so why don’t you try keeping your mouth shut? Seem like something you can do?” </p><p>He takes a second, analysing me when I turn back to my paper, tapping my pencil against it. “Why are you even here? I figured someone like you would be off, getting on the teachers good side, writing up newsletters or something?” </p><p>“Oh, wow,” I droned, still paying little attention. “It’s almost as if we don’t know each other.” </p><p>He shrugged, knowing fine well he didn’t know me, but he also knows that he knows my type. “Well, I just never imagined the yippity, annoying fucks to ever be in trouble. They usually have one of the old guys in their mouth to ensure their A’s.” </p><p>I didn’t want him to know that he had struck a chord, so it was lucky that Andrew slammed his hand onto the table, saving me from having to argue back. “Leave the girls alone, you creep. Just shut up before Vern gets suspicious again.” </p><p>“Well, what do you say we close that door? We can’t have any kind of party with Vernon checking us out every few seconds.” </p><p>“Well, you know, the door’s supposed to stay open...” Johnson murmured. </p><p>“So what?” Bender shot back. </p><p>“So why don’t you just shut up? There’s five other people in here you know,” said the athlete. </p><p>“God, you can count. See, I knew you had to be smart to be a- a wrestler!” </p><p>“Who the hell are you to judge anybody anyway?” </p><p>“Really...” Claire agreed. </p><p>“You know, Bender, you don’t even count. I mean, if you disappeared forever, it wouldn’t make any difference. You may as well not even exist at this school” <br/>Now that would have hurt if it was aimed at me, and I had a pretty hard time deciding whether or not he deserved it. But since the wrester decided to defend me, I felt it better to stay silent. Bender pauses for a moment, but continues to fire back as if he wasn’t probably upset by this. <br/>“Well, I'll just run out and join the wrestling team.” Claire and the wrestler turn to each other, exchanging a silent laugh. “Maybe the prep club too, student council...” </p><p>“No, they wouldn’t take you.” </p><p>Bender turns to the wrestler, mocks upset. “I’m hurt.” </p><p>“You know why guys like you knock everything?” Claire started, confidently, much to Benders dismay.  </p><p>“This should be stunning...” </p><p>“It’s ‘cause you’re afraid.” </p><p>“Oh, God! You richies are so smart! That’s exactly why I'm not heavy in the activities!” </p><p>“You’re a big coward,” she says, proudly. <br/> <br/>The blonde boy, feeling left out, joins the conversation, talking to none of us specifically in a quiet voice. “I’m in the math club...” </p><p>“See, you’re afraid they won’t take you,” Claire continued. “You don’t belong, so you just have to dump all over it...” </p><p>“Well... it wouldn’t have anything to do with you activities people being assholes, now would it?” </p><p>“You wouldn’t know,” she shrugs. “You don’t even know any of us.” </p><p>“Well, I don’t know any lepers either, but I'm not gonna run out and join one of their fuckin’ clubs.” </p><p>“Hey, let’s watch the mouth, huh?” says the wrestler over Johnson who, once again, mutters to us. <br/> <br/>“I’m also in the physics club too...” </p><p>“S’cuse me a sec,” Bender says, turning to the boy. “What are you babbling about?” </p><p>“Well, what I said was... I’m in the math club, the Latin club and the Phythics club- physics club.” </p><p>Bender nods, and turns back to Claire. <br/>“Hey, Cherry... do you belong to the physics club?” </p><p>“That’s an academic club.” </p><p>“So?” </p><p>“So... academic clubs aren’t the same as other clubs.” </p><p>“That girls club is technically academic,” he pointed, gesturing towards me. “It’s a class subject, yet she and hers are always being friendly with you and yours. What’s the difference?” </p><p>“Her name is Mary, and our clubs work hand in hand.” </p><p>“How so?” </p><p>I lean forward in my seat, rolling my eyes at this guys complete lack of social skills. “My clubs work close with her clubs. Take her fashion club, for example. They do the project work, and I'm responsible for taking the pictures, creating the campaigns and stuff. Yeah, it’s kind of academic, but it’s on the creative side. They’re not the same... socially.” </p><p>“Oh, but to dorks like him...” He points, rudely. “They are. What do you guys do in your club?” </p><p>“In Physics- um- we, uh, we talk about Physics... about properties of Physics.” </p><p>“So, it’s sorta social. Demented and sad, but social, right?” </p><p>“Yeah, well, I guess you could consider it a social situation. I mean, there are other kids in my club and, uh, at the end of the year we have, um, you know, a big banquet at the, uh, at the Hilton.” </p><p>“You load up? You party?” </p><p>“Well, no. We get dressed up... I mean, but, we don’t... we don’t get high.” </p><p>Claire gave a half-smile, looking to Bender. “Only burners like you get high.” </p><p>“And, uh, I didn’t  have any shoes, so I kinda had to borrow my dads. It was kinda weird ‘cause my mom doesn’t like me to wear other people’s shoes. And, uh, my cousin, Kent- my cousin, Kendall from, uh, Indiana... he got high once and, you know, he started eating, like, really weird foods. And, uh, then he just felt like he didn’t belong anywhere. You know, kind like, you know, Twilight Zone, kinda.”</p><p>Claire laughs after the short, yet dragged on story, turning to Bender. “Sounds like you.”</p><p> </p><p>The athlete drew a frustrated breath through his nose, jaw locked in annoyance. “Look, you guys keep up your talking, and Vernon’s gonna come right in here... I got a meet this Saturday, and I’m not gonna miss it on account of you boneheads...”</p><p>“Oh, and wouldn’t that be a bite.” Bender let’s put an agonising groan. His over use of sarcasm has been astounding so far. “Missing a while wrestling meet...”</p><p>“Well, you wouldn’t know anything about it, faggot! You never competed your whole life.”</p><p>“Oh, stop it,” I warned, growing more and more impatient. No way in hell was I listening to these meatheads argue for eight hours. “Neither of you are making this easy, and the name-calling is childish.”</p><p>“Yeah, he really hurt my feelings,” Bender pouted, giving me the puppy dog eyes. “I feel all empty inside because of it.” <br/>And the his expression changed like the click of your fingers as his gaze shifted back to the other boy. “I have such a deep admiration for guys that roll around on the floor with other guys.”</p><p>Looks like the gay accusations weren’t stopping any time soon. I rolled my eyes, scanning the room for areas with good lighting, good lines as the pair argued.<br/>“Ahh, you’d never miss it. You don’t have any goals.”</p><p>“But I do!”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>He smiled, leaning forwards with his best innocent smile. “Yeah. I wanna be just. Like. You. I figure all I’ll need is a labouring and some tights!”</p><p>The blonde boy suddenly perks up, an amused look suddenly on his face. “You wear tights?”</p><p>The athlete spins in his seat, jaw locked tight, spitting his words, defensively. “No, I don’t wear tights! I wear the required uniform!”</p><p>“...so tights.”</p><p>“Shut up!” He snaps, turning back around in his seat. <br/>I can hear Vern messing around across the hall, doing whatever he’ll be doing the eight hours he’s stuck here with us. Bender, in a worry, leaps onto the seat between Claire and Sporto, head down until Vern passes.<br/>He lets out an exaggerated, loud laugh before he stands back up,  clunking towards the open double doors.</p><p>My gut told be that this guy wasn’t to be trusted, and that he has potential to get us all in crazy amounts of trouble.<br/>“You know there’s not supposed to be any Monkey business!” The brainiac told.</p><p>Bender turned as he walked, pointing a stern finger at him. “Young man, have you finished your paper?”</p><p>He turns back to the door, begins to fiddle with the latched. </p><p>“What are you gunna do?” Claire stressed.</p><p>“Drop dead, I hope,” said the athlete.</p><p> </p><p>“Bender, that’s- that’s school property, there. You know, it doesn’t belong to us. It’s something not to be toyed with...” </p><p>The door slams shut with a loud bang, and I can’t help help myself from jumping out of my seat once more. Bender runs back to my side of the table, making for a much harder feign of innocence. <br/>“Seriously? What do you expect to get out of that?”</p><p>“Yeah, anyway,” said the boy up front. “We get its, it’s really funny. Fix it!”</p><p>“You should really fix that,” the brain agreed.</p><p>“Am I a genius?”</p><p>“No,” the boy at the front replied. “You’re an asshole!”</p><p>“What a funny guy!”</p><p>“Fix the door, Bender!”</p><p>“Everyone just shhh! I’ve been here before, I know what I’m doing!”</p><p>“What’s Vern gonna say? Are you kidding me?” I start, growing more anxious as the minutes pass. <br/>“Shut up!”</p><p> </p><p>And that we did when the doors were pushed open. Boy, we’re we in trouble now...</p>
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